It was always Nur’s dream to study in
Japan. But when he said goodbye to his parents in China’s Xinjiang Uighur
Autonomous Region (XUAR) to become a student in Tokyo, he had no way of knowing
that his dream would turn into a nightmare.

Two years later, in April 2017, Nur (whose
real named cannot be revealed for safety reasons) received an anxious phone
call from his mother, telling him police in the XUAR had ordered him to return
home.

Soon afterwards he received another call
from his father, and this time the message was even more chilling: “Don’t come back and don’t send
them any documents. Don’t contact us again.”

Nur was confused and frightened, but he was
not alone. He is one of many Uighurs – a predominantly Muslim ethnic minority
group based largely in the XUAR, in northwestern China – who have moved
overseas only for the far-reaching tentacles of Chinese government repression
to catch up with them.

There is mounting evidence that, since
early 2017, the Chinese authorities have detained up to a million Uighurs,
Kazakhs and other ethnic minorities in mass internment camps – dubbed
“re-education” or “vocational training” centres by Beijing authorities– where
they have faced torture and other unlawful treatment.

For Uighurs living abroad, in Japan and
elsewhere, returning home is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, they get to
see their loved ones. But on the other, they are placing themselves at risk of arbitrary
detention.

For Nur, that risk was implicit in his
father’s message. It has left him with an impossible choice: go home and risk being
sent to a camp; or stay in Japan and never see his family again.

Before he received that phone call from his
mother, police in the XUAR had been contacting her for months, asking for official documentation proving
that Nur was studying in Japan. The Chinese embassy in
Tokyo advised Nur to obtain these documents and send them home. Now he is too
scared to make any contact with the police.

Other Uighurs in Japan we spoke to are in
similar situations: worried about the fate of their families, but too
frightened to return home to see them. Many said police in their hometowns had asked
their parents about their children’s situations abroad. Some even asked for
their residential addresses and contact numbers.

An added
fear about returning home for overseas Uighurs is that, even if they avoid detention
in the XUAR, they may be prevented from leaving China again due to passport
issues.

Nur said he had to pay 40,000 RMB (approximately
US$5,800) to the police in his hometown in the XUAR in order to apply for a
passport before he left in 2015, but he does not know what will happen when it
expires.

Another Uighur living in Japan told us:
“I’m worried what would happen if I enter the Chinese embassy. I’m worried that
they will just confiscate my passport.”

The Uighurs we spoke to said this had
already happened to some people when they tried to renew their Chinese
passports, rendering them unable to leave Japan. The arbitrary refusal to
return or renew a passport is a violation of the right to
freedom of movement.

For the more than 2,000 Uighurs living in
Japan, their visas allow them to stay in the country indefinitely, even without their Chinese
passports. But they face the real possibility of never seeing their families
again – a predicament made more excruciating by the constant fear that their
relatives may be taken to camps.

One Uighur
woman told us that her three relatives who had previously visited her in Japan were
now detained in “re-education” camps in Tacheng Prefecture in the northwestern
part of the XUAR. She had considered returning to the XUAR to find them, but
was worried she would be detained too.

After
her Chinese passport expired, officials at the Chinese embassy in Japan said it
could only be renewed if she returned to the XUAR. For many this feels like a
trap – the Chinese government’s method of forcing Uighurs to return to Xinjiang
for “re-education”.

“Who
knows what would happen to her if she returns to China?” the woman’s husband
said. “We miss our family there, but it will put us at risk if we go back. We
don’t know what we can do.”

When asked
if they thought they would ever be able to meet their families in the XUAR
again, none of the Uighurs we spoke to were optimistic.

“We have
visas to live in Japan but we are worried about whether we can renew our
passport when it expires, and we are afraid what would happen to us if we go
back to China. We simply have no choice,” one said.

Since receiving that terrifying call from his father, Nur has had minimal contact with his parents. Their communication has been restricted to short WeChat messages to confirm that they are safe and not being held in camps. For now, that feels like the best he can hope for.

The Sengwer people in Kenya have a deep, spiritual bond with the beautiful and vast Embobut Forest. It’s their ancestral land where they have lived for centuries. But this Indigenous community of beekeepers and cattle herders is being violently evicted by the Kenyan government.

In the name of “conservation”, forest guards and police have burned an estimated 2,600 houses since 2012, making some 4,600 people homeless. In January 2018, one man was shot dead and another seriously injured. The violence is in direct violation of repeated court orders that should protect this Indigenous community.

Sengwer people are losing their homes, livelihoods and cultural identity. Some are now living outside the forest and have been left in crushing poverty. Women are often hit hardest, struggling on their own to care for families as some men stay in the forest or have abandoned their families.

The government says it wants to reduce deforestation, but there is no evidence that the Sengwer have damaged the forest. These Indigenous people should be recognized as the owners and natural custodians of the Embobut Forest, as their livelihoods, identity and spirituality rely on it. They are determined to resist. Let’s stand with them today.

Tell Kenya to let the Sengwer people live on their land in peace.

Atena Daemi

Like so many, Atena Daemi dreams of an end to the death penalty in Iran. She’s written Facebook and Twitter posts criticizing the country’s execution record. She’s handed out leaflets. And she’s taken part in a peaceful protest against the execution of a young woman. Simple actions which sadly, in Iran, take great courage.

Incredibly, these activities have been cited as evidence of her criminal activity and now she’s been sentenced to seven years in jail. Her trial was a sham – it took just 15 minutes and she was convicted on trumped-up charges, including gathering and colluding to commit crimes against national security.

Her cruel treatment is one more bitter example of the intense crackdown on people who speak out for a fairer Iran. Dozens have been imprisoned, and many others face surveillance, interrogations and drawn-out prosecutions, forcing them into silence.

Atena has suffered so much already. She’s been beaten, pepper sprayed and forced into solitary confinement, but she continues to fight for human rights. Earlier this year, she went on hunger strike to protest her transfer to a notorious prison. Her health has deteriorated alarmingly while in prison. She must be released immediately.